Sunday, December 8, 2013

Every year for almost a half-century, a giant straw goat has
been erected in central Gävle, a city
of 75,000 by the Baltic Sea about 160 kilometers (100 miles) north of Stockholm.

Since the first Gävle
Goat (“Gävlebocken” in Swedish) was built in 1966,
it’s been an attractive annual target for arsonists and other vandals. The city’s massive version of a
Yule goat — the established Christmas symbol in Northern Europe and
particularly in Scandinavia —
was burnt down for the 26th time in 2012.

The iconic goat weighs 3.6 metric tons (8,000 pounds) and
stands 13 meters (about 43 feet) tall, towering over the city’s main square. Erecting
it, according to a 2012 interview in New York Magazine,
costs around 200,000 SEK — close to $31,000 USD at today’s exchange. Paying
humans to guard the goat isn’t cheap, either, but supposedly the most effective
in ensuring its survival.

It’s constructed over two days every winter in time for
the first Sunday of Advent, the countdown to Christmas. The city celebrates its
arrival with a fireworks show — somewhat ironic in that pyrotechnics have caused
its demise on multiple occasions.

The
goat is synonymous with Gävle.
It’s earned the city a lot of global attention. But while the goat may have
helped put Gävle on the map, it feels like the arsonistsare playing a larger role in keeping
itin the international headlinesvirtually every other December.

The
town trademark has evolved into two-way taunting. The English portion of the goat’s Twitter
bio reads “I’m the biggest straw goat in the world, follow my struggle
to survive arson attacks.” Last year, a photo of four ankles tattooed with a burning goat and the time and date the 2012 version went down
in flames was posted online.

Here’s a time-lapse of that goat’s final moments:

The Goat Committee (yes — there is one, founded in 1992) insists they
don’t condone its burning. But in my humble opinion, if it weren’t such an
annual game, not nearly as many people would pay any attention. The torching
tradition keeps it interesting.

It doesn’t look particularly challenging for would-be arsonists to access
the goat. The fence at left would probably deter only the least-committed
attacker, but the Committee has stated it doesn’t want to sacrifice aesthetics
to improve security, spurning the suggestion of a better barrier.

The hay used for the 2013 goat, which has now survived its first week, was
soaked in an anti-flammable liquid — a tactic that has yielded historically
mixed results.

Only 10
goats have stood past Christmas Day. The majority have burned, sometimes within
hours of being built.

The first few years in the late 1960s,
kids would apparently play hide-and-seek in and around the goat. Today, anyone
inside the fence who isn’t a paid guard is probably up to no good.

The
1976 goat was hit by a car, while the 1997 edition was damaged by fireworks. Flameproofed
goats in the 1980s were still successfully burnt down, and English bookmakers
started taking bets on the goat’s fate during that decade.

Over the years, it’s been guarded by
volunteers, paid security companies, taxis, cameras and even the local Swedish
infantry.

Although
perpetrators risk jail and hefty fines, only a handful have ever been caught. Included
in the busted, though, is an American tourist from Ohio who got drunk while
visiting a friend in Gävle and burned the 2001 goat down. He spent 18 days in
jail but fled back to the States upon being released without paying 100,000 SEK
($15,400 USD) in damages.

In 2005, the goat burned down when arsonists dressed as Santa and a gingerbread man reportedly launched an aerial attack of flaming arrows. For the goat’s 40th anniversary the following year, it was fireproofed with a substance used in aviation and survived through to
January 2, when it was dismantled on-schedule for storage.

Then a
few years ago, just four months after I moved here, I read this story about two
men trying to bribe a security guard in the hopes he would let them
kidnap the goat by helicopter and bring it to a well-known square in the heart
of Stockholm. I can only imagine how drunk you’d have to be to believe every
part of that plan could work — especially transporting an 8,000-pound goat that
distance by chopper.

The city of
Gävle is quite good at marketing the goat — it has its own bilingual social
media accounts, blog and webcam,
which updates every several seconds and enables spectators from around the
world to keep tabs on the goat’s fate.

While the webcam attracts thousands of visitors from
all over the world, the goat itself draws an impressive number of tourists to
the city each December who may have no other reason to venture north of
Stockholm. I was
fortunate to be passing through town on business last week and got to see the
goat for the first time. If you ever find yourself in Stockholm in December, I
would recommend taking the short train trip to check the spectacle out for yourself.

Information in this blog comes from Wikipedia and a variety
of news sources/articles. All photos and opinions within belong to the blogger.